


Your Innocence

by velveteendays



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Pretty In Pink (1986)
Genre: Anxiety, Blood, Cleveland, Cleveland Kidnappings, Court, F/F, F/M, Injury, Kidnapping, Loss, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Underage - Freeform, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 09:43:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12129741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velveteendays/pseuds/velveteendays
Summary: Being locked away in this house for 15 years wasn't that bad, Bendon thought. The punishment wasn't that bad, either. Brendon was privileged enough to have a home and to not be in the savage world outside. The wasteland, as Mr. Shapiro had said. He was fine where he was, and he wouldn't want to change a thing.





	Your Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> OKay, okay, this is basically something my friend Madisen and I had been writing for a while (maybe a year who knows) I'm just taking it from my wattpad and copying it and pasting it here. Let me know in the comments how you liked it and if there are any questions or grammatical errors we've made. Oh and stay safe, this story can be very triggering to some audiences.

From within these soft pale walls, Brendon hums an all too familiar tune from the band, Queen. The song, "I Want To Break Free," was played on the Oldies but Goodies radio, multiple times on Mr. Shapiro's computer. And the only way, Brendon could use the laptop was when he left, and even then, that was the only thing Brendon could do because one- Brendon had no idea to work a laptop, and two- it seemed all the applications on it were blocked except for the radio station app. Which was fine for Brendon.

Back to Brendon's humming, he was currently humming that tune, whilst washing the dishes. He was a bit cold he had to admit, he was only wearing a long Yankee shirt with bunny slippers to cover his feet against the cold tiles. Mr. Shapiro was home. He hears his heavy feet come into the kitchen and Brendon turns around, quickly drying his wet hands and hugs the taller man. Mr.S laughs and spins the boy around, which makes him giggle. Mr. S or Mr. Shapiro was a tall man next to Brendon, he was a solid six-foot-five next to Brendon, whilst the younger was five-foot-five. 

“How was your day, Mr.S?” Brendon asks as the older put him down. “Great, lot’s of students misbehaving, but what do you expect? All of these primitive ugly people, someone must put up with them!” This was thing, Mr. S hadn’t let Brendon out, ever, he taught Brendon everything he would learn in a regular school system. He also implanted in Brendon’s head that the world outside was ugly, like a barren wasteland with ugly houses all around, primitive rude people living all over the world. He told Brendon he could never go outside, because the moment Brendon would walk outside, these primitive people would hurt him. 

“Did you do your chores?” Mr. Shapiro asks placing a kiss on the younger’s forehead. “Good, good, let’s get you cleaned up and you can make dinner.” Brendon nods and the two go upstairs, the younger going up the stairs first, then Mr.S going right after, watching Brendon’s petite bum as he walked up the flight of stairs.

Mr. S ran the water before stripping Brendon of his few clothing articles.He wasn’t allowed to dress or undress without the older’s permission, that left him naked quite often. Blushing, Brendon stood before the older man before getting permission to submerge into the warm water. 

“Why are the other people primitive and rude?” Brendon asks, as he plays with the bubbles in the water of the bathtub. “They didn’t have anybody to love, their mothers and fathers wouldn’t love them.” He replies, he then looks into Brendon’s eyes and pulls the young one in for a deep kiss. This is the part Brendon hated the most, the kissing and intimacy. Mr. S said it was fine, the intimacy, so that must mean it is fine. Brendon just doesn’t like it, he knows he likes boys, from what he’s seen in old yearbooks of Mr. Shapiro’s sons-who died before Brendon was born. But he did not like Mr. S like that. He remembered his parents kissing long ago. He knew that couples do that, not caretakers.

Brendon and Mr. S release from the kiss, and Brendon smiles slightly, although, he never likes kissing. 

“I’m going to get you some clothes, so you can make some dinner.” Mr. S states with a smile.

Brendon was now dressed in his clothes- a tan jumper with three buttons on each shoulder with black jeans. He then slips on Mr. Shapiro’s old prescription glasses, which makes Brendon see a hundred times more clearer than before without hurting his vision.  
Once the young boy is done cooking a figure quickly takes the plate of food next to him, and he is freaking out because, Brendon hasn’t tried the food yet, and what if it wasn’t good? Oh god. Hopefully it’ll be good.

He follows Mr. Shapiro to the small dining room table and sits in the chair in front of where his caretaker would sit. The man sits down and cuts the chicken Brendon has prepared into small pieces and Brendon is getting anxious again, but he conceals it with a small smile. 

The man’s face turns into a frown, his eyebrows furrow, and Brendon knows. Oh, he knows he is screwed. “Go upstairs, and kneel in front of the bed, with your shirt off.” Brendon nods and starts to head up the stairs when Mr. S says something else that makes Brendon’s stomach churn.

“And, remove your pants as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> OKay, okay, this is basically something my friend Madisen and I had been writing for a while (maybe a year who knows) I'm just taking it from my wattpad and copying it and pasting it here. Let me know in the comments how you liked it and if there are any questions or grammatical errors we've made. Oh and stay safe, this story can be very triggering to some audiences.


End file.
